


Finding Love

by rpfwriters



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Gen, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpfwriters/pseuds/rpfwriters
Summary: One night, Chris comes into the animal shelter you work at.





	Finding Love

It was two hours before closing and you were more than ready to go home. You hadn’t slept well the night before and it was a long day at the humane society. There were baths to be given, there were cages that needed cleaning, medication needed to be distributed, and on top of it all, two people called in sick, so everything fell to you and another volunteer. Thankfully, there weren’t many visitors, so you weren’t pulled in a hundred different directions at once.

You were strolling up and down the aisles, making sure to spend some quality time with each of the dogs that you passed; giving them treats, showering them with the love they so desperately craved. Part of you hated working there. It made you sad to see the state in which animals arrived, how they could spend weeks, months, even years locked in a cage. What absolutely broke your heart were the ones that had given up. They would lie there, uncaring as people stopped and called them over, not even wagging their tail that interest was being shown. So, you took it upon yourself to spend as much time with each of them as you could; cats included.

A series of barks filled the room as someone came in, a hushed, “Hi buddy,” used as a greeting to each dog the person encountered. You exited the cage and put on a friendly smile.

“Hi there,” you greeted warmly, your hands clasped behind your back. You tried not to focus on his plush lips as he smiled.

“Hi,” was his raspy response.

God, he was attractive. He was [ **wearing dark jeans**](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F736x%2Fff%2Ff8%2F89%2Ffff889aad6bbf51afede8c7ef54d1f54--robert-evans-chris-evans.jpg&t=Nzc1MGYwMGU5NzFiY2YyZTQyNmI3MjRlMzhmYTUxODVjNDg2ZTE2OCxMYnFBNGFscQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AUajanByVJFqfn7QTGkY67w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fi-dont-do-rpfs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173338370235%2Ffinding-love&m=1) and a tight blue shirt, dark glasses covered his eyes and there was a backwards baseball cap atop his head, but you couldn’t figure out why he looked vaguely familiar.

“Are you looking to buy a dog?” you asked, your mouth dry, your knees feeling like jelly.

He turned to look at the row of cages, most of them had dogs pawing at the chain link and whining. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, I’m Y/N,” you announced, pointing at the name tag on your shirt. “If you need any help, or have any questions, give me a shout.”

“Actually,” he said, tugging off his sunglasses. “I do have a question.”

Your mouth went dry at the sight of his bright eyes. “Oh ye- yeah?”

“Is there a dog you would recommend for someone that gets… anxious?” he asked nervously, his gaze shifting around the large room.

It wasn’t the first time you had been asked that question, and it never got easier to answer. You wanted every animal in the facility to find a loving home, they each deserved it, some more so than others, but no two dogs were alike. While Sugar liked to run circles around someone, demanding that all attention be on them, Burt was a cuddler. Then there was Mitzi, she was a hunting dog who liked to run after anything and everything.

“Tell me more about who you are as a person, and we’ll see who fits the profile,” you offered, moving to stand next to him.

“For starters, my name is Chris,” he scratched the back of his neck as he started walking. “I try to stay active, I go for walks

“That’s going to be a necessity with a dog,” you chuckled.

Chris bent down to pay attention to a chocolate lab. “But I also travel a lot for work, so size could be an issue.”

You could tell he hated the way it came out by the way he wrinkled his nose. “That’s not the craziest thing I’ve heard, Chris.”

He chuckled nervously at that. “Thank God for that.”

“Now, you said something about being anxious?” you asked, rounding the corner to the other side of the room where there was another long row of kennels.

“Yeah, I uh, my job is pretty crazy at times,” he admitted, his voice shaking with nerves.

“Tell me about it,” you chuckled, waving your hand in the air.

Chris smiled widely at that. “How long have you been working here?”

You blew out a huff of air as you tucked some hair behind your ear. “Come June, I’ll have been here for three years.”

“You must really like your job.” Chris reached into a kennel and scratched the head of a large white pitbull.

“For the most part, yeah,” you agreed, sadness thickening your throat more than you anticipated it to. “But it has some downsides.”

Chris blew out a heavy breath. “I can’t imagine.”

“I kind of set a goal for myself,” you admitted. “I try and get five animals adopted a day. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but there are days where nobody is in here.”

“Really? That’s a shame,” he said, his arm bumping against yours as he turned to pay attention to a dog that you had your eye on for the last several months. Dodger was sitting there, his tail swishing back and forth on the cement, his nose inches away from the chain link.

You stood back and watched as Chris held his hand out as he greeted Dodger. “Hi, hi buddy,” he cooed, sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine. Dodger was doing his best to get Chris’ hand inside the kennel, pawing at it, pulling it between the two metal rods, licking Chris’ fingers and palm.

“He likes you,” you breathed, tears stinging your eyes.

Chris dropped down and worked his fingers through Dodger’s freshly-washed fur. “I like him, too.”

“You can take him out back if you want.” You hoped you didn’t sound like you were trying to push Chris into buying Dodger, you just really wanted to see him go to a good home, and you had a feeling that he would have that with Chris.

“I would like that.”

Thirty-five minutes later, you were at the computer, filling in the adoption forms with Chris’ information.

“Last name,” you said, trying really hard to keep your eyes on the screen.

You had watched through a window as Chris threw a ball for Dodger, laughing as the dog tore off, coming back a few moments later. Chris would praise Dodger for doing a good job, bend down, and throw the ball again. You still couldn’t figure out why you felt like you knew Chris, and the longer you thought about it, the more your brain refused to work with you.

Chris’ answer was low, hushed. “Evans.”

Your fingers tapped on the keyboard. “Any relation to Chris Evans, the actor?” you chuckled. When he didn’t answer, you turned to find him reaching up to remove his hat. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled ruefully.

“You caught me,” he huffed.

While Chris wasn’t the first celebrity you’d met, it was the first time meeting a celebrity who was currently the wallpaper on your cell phone. To your credit, you swallowed around the knot in your throat and gave him a soft smile.

“It’ll be our secret,” you assured him.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Chris said as he replaced the hat.

Once the paperwork was filed away and Chris had paid the adoption fee - along with dog food, water and food bowls - you dropped down to say your goodbyes. Dodger propped his paws onto your knees and licked your face.

“I’m gonna miss you, Dodge.” You tried to keep the sadness from your voice, but you were an emotional person that got way too attached to the animals you worked with. You scratched behind his ears and pressed a kiss to his muzzle.

Once you stood, you held out your hand, and said, “Thank you.”

“I feel like I should be the one thanking you,” Chris chuckled as he shook your hand.

“You’re the one that’s giving him a home,” you insisted. When Chris smiled at you, it made your stomach flip lazily.

“Before I go,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I know that there’s a possibility of adjustment struggles, but is there anyone I should call in case it gets really bad?”

“Well, I’ve been dealing with Dodger the majority of the time that he has spent here.”

“Oh, good,” Chris smiled. “Can you put your number in my phone?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as he handed you his phone. Was this really happening? Were you  _really_  about to give Chris Evans your phone number? You damn right you were. After adding your information, you scrolled through the humane society’s website, found your picture, and attached it to the contact.

“Not that I think you’ll have any issues with Dodger, but just in case,” you said as you handed his phone back.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Chris insisted with a wink before leaving.

* * *

It was three days later, at one in the morning when Chris called you.

“Slow down, Chris,” you demanded, your voice thick with sleep. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” was his tight answer. “Dodger was fine the first day, but then he started moping around the house.”

You pushed up from your pillow and swung your legs over. “Well, adoption is stressful for more than just the people doing the adopting.”

Chris scraped a hand over his face. “I know, I do, I just… he hasn’t eaten anything today, and he’s been moping around the house.”

Now that wasn’t good. “Have you brought him to the vet?”

“No,” he sighed. “Do you think I should?”

“Honestly?” you asked. “No, I don’t.”

Chris huffed out a breath through his nose. “Would you… I mean, I know it’s late, but -”

“You want me to come over?”

“Could you?”

You heard him pull in a breath, but there was no exhale. “Text me your address.”

Almost an hour later, you were raising your hand to knock on the front door, only your knuckles never connected with it.

“Thank you for coming,” Chris said as soon as the door was open.

“Sorry it took me so long,” you apologized. “I got turned around a bit.”

He ushered you inside, closing the door after shoving his head out and scanning the area. “It’s part of why I moved out here.”

You took in a breath at the closeness of Chris beside you. “So… the dog of the hour is..?”

There was a surprised bark before the tell-tale sounds of paws hitting the floor rapidly from the other end of the house. You shared a look with Chris before a flash of brown and white scurried toward you.

“There you are,” you giggled as he sat down and pawed at your leg. You bent down and landed on your butt when he jumped. Dodger was giving you kisses as his tail wagged furiously.

“Well, shit,” Chris murmured, scratching his head.

You grabbed his muzzle and playfully shook it. “What’s’a matter, huh? You got your daddy all worried for what?”

“He missed you,” he chuckled, dropping down next to you so he could scratch behind Dodger’s ear.

Dodger gave a whine when your hand fell away. “Aw, buddy, I miss you, too, but you can’t act like that, okay? I can’t keep coming over just because you’re being moody.”

Chris’ hand brushed against yours. “Why not?”

You gave a rueful smile. “He’s yours now, Chris, and I… I’m just a nobody that works at an animal shelter.”

“That’s not true,” he said, turning to look at you. “I mean, you  _do_  work at an animal shelter, but you’re not a nobody. You’re somebody special to Dodger.”

“A dog that I made the mistake of falling in love with when I knew that someone amazing would take him home,” you sniffled. Dodger was sitting between your legs and staring up at you with his wide eyes.

Chris covered your hand, the one on your thigh, and gave it a squeeze. “What… what about me?”

Your tear-filled eyes flicked up to Chris’ and you sucked in a stuttering breath. “Wha- what?”

“Look, I know we just met, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” you asked, your voice thick.

“I like you, Y/N,” he admitted shakily. “You’re sweet, funny, obviously a good-hearted person who loves dogs -”

“And cats” you injected.

“And cats,” Chris chuckled. “I’d love to get to know you better. Spend some time with you. Maybe both Dodger and I could spend time with you.”

You were shaking your head. There was no way this was happening. If you weren’t dreaming, it had to be a cruel joke; people like Chris Evans didn’t like you, not like  _that._

“You said so yourself, we just met,” you pointed out.

Dodger scooched closer and put his paw on your leg, whining once again.

“You should listen to him,” Chris whispered, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “He knows what he’s talkin’ about.”

Despite the fact that several tears had slipped down your face, you chuckled. “He’s a dog, Chris.”

“A smart dog, yes he is,” he praised Dodger, scratching him between the ears with his free hand.

Pulling in a shaky breath, you looked at Chris. “I like the sound of that, spending time with you, getting to know you -” Dodger’s tongue flopped out as he started panting happily, “and you, too,” you said, dropping a kiss to his muzzle.

With that said, Dodger licked your face and scampered off into the kitchen, the sound of him eating his kibble drowned out by your laughs.


End file.
